


Just What I Wanted

by coreopsis



Series: popslash stripperAU [1]
Category: Popslash
Genre: AU, M/M, RPS - Freeform, stripperfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-14
Updated: 2003-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Kevin Richardson is a famous musician and Nick Carter is not. So obviously none of this is true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just What I Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DaraQ. Thanks to Ms Nerd for beta.

Kevin Richardson was not having a midlife crisis. He was too damn young for that, no matter what his cousin Brian said. Okay, maybe he was having some issues with turning thirty in a few months. Or more accurately three months, two weeks and six days, not that he was counting. So what if he bought a new house in Miami? He'd gotten his career started in Florida, and it was good to come back and get in touch with his--well, his _roots_ were in Kentucky so maybe Florida was his stems. Whatever, he was back and enjoying the summer off even though it was not the best time to come south.

No midlife crisis meant there was nothing particularly wrong with going to strip bars--not even the gay ones--and he'd already hit most of them in the two weeks he'd been there. Hell, he was already getting jaded. So many pretty boys with beautiful bodies and vacant eyes, after all the glitter of ten years in L.A., left him with a been there done that attitude and achingly aware that something was always missing.

The club he was in tonight was smaller than the others he'd been to, a little off the beaten path. The clientele was not exactly upscale themselves so he had little hope for the dancers being cream of the crop. But it was always possible that he'd find a little something interesting here, that indefinable something he'd been missing.

He'd dressed to blend in black pants and jacket and a dark grey shirt, good quality but not by recognizable designers. He'd save those racks of Armani, BCBG, and whatever was hip this week for his high profile Grammy and AMA appearances. There was nothing he could do about people recognizing him, but the clientele didn't come to these clubs to look at each other, so he wouldn't sweat it too much. His sexuality was one of the worst kept secrets in the business anyway. Outing him would be about as anticlimactic as outing Kevin Spacey.

Taking a sip of his bourbon, Kevin watched dispassionately as the first dancer came out and did his bit. The cowboy outfit was cute, but so overdone. The Cowboy finished up and another dancer came out to take his place. The Construction Worker with his hard hat and tool belt over tiny shorts was enough to make Kevin think he'd stumbled into some sort of Village People theme night, Kevin sighed and waved a waiter over. He'd need much more of Kentucky's finest if he was going to get into the spirit of things tonight.

But then the third dancer came out and washed away all the critical thoughts. Wearing faded blue jeans, a black leather motorcycle jacket, and a face that looked just barely old enough to be here, this one was obviously The Rebel. His messy blond hair fell into his eyes and his mouth gleamed with a red that owed nothing to cosmetics, making him look like he just tumbled out of bed after a good hard fuck. Kevin was surprised to find himself responding even before the boy started moving.

The Rebel moved with more power than grace, as if he'd found his talent and was determined to throw every last bit of it into every performance. Kevin found the quality exhilarating, but had the fleeting thought that the boy would burn out soon if he didn't pace himself. Jamming to a hard rock number that Kevin didn't recognize, the boy ripped off his jacket and slammed it on the floor a few times as if beating out a fire.

Kevin chuckled as the waiter walked up with a fresh drink, which Kevin accepted with a generous tip and a question.

"That's Nick," the waiter replied with a toothy grin. "He's still pretty new."

"Hmm." Kevin's eyes widened and his mouth went dry when Nick grabbed the pole in both hands and started grinding against it. He wasn't as slim as the other dancers or as sculpted with defined muscles, but Nick was dead sexy. His enthusiasm alone was enough to make Kevin's cock ache. "Does he do private lap dances?"

"Yes, sir. All the dancers do."

"Does he do anything else?"

"Nick only does what the club allows, dancing only."

Kevin waved this off as unimportant and took a sip of his drink. "I want him and a private room. Can you arrange that?"

The waiter nodded and told him how much it would cost. As he opened his wallet to pull out the money, Kevin never took his eyes off Nick, who was ripping the Velcro on his jeans and revealing long, thick legs and an ass to write songs about. The impressive package inside the red G-string could inspire a sonnet or two at least. Kevin shook his head at how he'd gone from being jaded to enraptured in less than twenty minutes. Nick finished up his routine by smacking his ass and flashing a grin that was a little more 'hey, I did it!' than 'hey, come do me!', but even that was sexy in its own way. Kevin had to remind himself that strippers were actors and not to read anything into all this genuine feeling he thought he saw in the beautiful blond boy.

Kevin had to wait through ten minutes and two boring dancers before the waiter came back and said, "Follow me, sir."

His stomach tightened and his mouth spread into an irrepressible grin of anticipation as he followed the short, Hispanic-looking waiter across the room and through a doorway into a narrow corridor that held four doors on one side. The waiter led Kevin to the very last door and ushered him inside. A plush but worn sofa sat against one wall and a padded straight-backed wooden chair sat in the middle of the tiny room. A few small electric sconces on the walls gave the room the effect of being candle-lit without the fire hazard. The end table next to the sofa held a CD player and a white card, which Kevin picked up and discovered to be a list of available songs. He was amused to see that track six was one of his songs. Not one of the hit singles, but an album cut that he'd always felt was unfairly underrated. Apparently, he just hadn't been tapped into the right audience.

The waiter let Kevin get acquainted with the room before saying, "Make yourself comfortable and Nick will be right along. Would you like another drink while you wait?"

"A bottle of Ty Nant, please," said Kevin, taking a seat on the sofa. Just thinking about Nick was making his mouth dry and his throat ache, and Kevin didn't think he wanted to be drunk tonight. The room was a little warm and a nice cold bottle of water would hit the spot.

It was less than a minute after the waiter left that the door opened again. Kevin looked up to see Nick walking into the room wearing the same rip-away jeans from before and a translucent white shirt, untucked and only half buttoned. He carried a blue bottle which he held out to Kevin as he stepped over to the table and picked up the list. "Do you have any special requests?"

Kevin smiled at the sweet, quiet voice coming out of such a big guy. He'd expected Nick's voice to sound deeper, more rough and vulgar. The light voice made him sound a lot younger than Kevin had assumed him to be, and before he could go any further, he had to ask. "How old are you?"

"How old do you want me to be?" Nick asked with a knowing smirk.

"Just whatever it says on your birth certificate is fine." Kevin twisted the top off the bottle and drank down a third of the cold water in one swallow. "I don't have any particular kink for young boys."

"It says January 28, 1980. I'm twenty-two." Nick waved the card at Kevin and said, "Before I get started, are you sure you don't have a request?"

"Anything but track six is fine," Kevin said with smirk of his own.

Nick didn't blink or act at all surprised. "Yeah, about that, do you want me to be a fan?"

"You knew who I was already?"

"Sure, it's sorta hard not to, even though it's not my kind of music. I'm more into guitars than pianos." Nick shrugged apologetically. "But it could be my favorite thing in the world if you want it to be."

Kevin walked over to set his bottle down on the table, putting him within Nick's personal space. Kevin couldn't help licking his lips and inhaling Nick's smoky, musky scent. He looked up into eyes he could now see were as blue as a sun-speckled ocean and murmured, "No, just be yourself."

Stepping back before he broke the rules, Kevin took off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa, then sat down on the chair. He sat with his back straight and his hands resting loosely on his thighs, his cock twitching inside the constriction of his underwear. Nick started the music--'Hey, Mr. DJ' by AJ McLean--and turned around. He started to unbutton his shirt as he stalked slowly over to Kevin, moving his hips slightly to the music. He slipped the shirt off one shoulder at a time to the words "I was hypnotized" and Kevin considered that eerily appropriate.

Tossing the shirt over his shoulder, Nick tilted his head back and ran his hands over the smooth golden skin of his throat and torso, stopping at his sturdy hips which he twisted sharply on the line "let's get it on". With the tantalizing sound of ripping Velcro, he stripped his jeans off, but left the red g-string. As Nick slid into the music and onto Kevin's lap, Kevin bit back a moan and swallowed hard. He resolved to send his good friend AJ a case of Cristal for singing such a sexy song and another case to Nick for knowing how to work it.

Kevin closed his eyes for a moment and cursed the thin material of his pants as Nick's firm thighs slid over his, but opened them up again when Nick's arms went across his shoulders. Nick gripped the back of the chair and levered himself up to grind his round ass against Kevin's lap, and Kevin made himself focus on the glitter sprinkled in among the freckles on Nick's wide shoulders just to keep from coming right then and there. When Nick's hard cock brushed against Kevin's stomach, he gasped and looked up into Nick's heavily-lidded eyes. Kevin reminded himself about the cockrings and other tricks the dancers used to keep erect, but it was hard not to believe it was all for him this time. The look on Nick's face was an Oscar-worthy performance of desire and arousal.

Nick didn't smile but his mouth opened a little and Kevin caught a flash of pink tongue between his teeth. His breath was coming quicker now, matching Kevin's own rapid breathing. Kevin knew he shouldn't but found himself reaching for Nick anyway, his hands settling on the soft slick skin of his waist. Nick raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side, grinding against Kevin even harder, until it was almost painful. Kevin moved his hands down to his sides, clenching them tightly into fists, and squirmed in his seat, spreading his legs to better accommodate his erection.

Nick leaned in closer and Kevin could have sworn he felt the damp fleeting sweep of Nick's tongue across his lips just before Nick whispered, "You are so hot for me, aren't you? You wanna come, don't you?"

Kevin arched into Nick and nodded. He may have also whimpered, but he was never sure. All he remembered later was the rush of his approaching orgasm and Nick sliding off his lap and crouching before him on the floor. Nick didn't touch him, just watched closely as Kevin struggled to control himself and then struggled to get his pants open when control proved out of reach.

Kevin was aware of Nick crawling backwards away from him and even that was unbearably hot. He kept his eyes locked on Nick's intense gaze as he finally got his cock out so he could come into his hand and not inside his clothes. Just touching his bare skin was enough to set him off, and he shuddered as his climax hit him hard and fast. He gasped and bit his lip when Nick's eyes left his and shifted downward.

For a long moment, there was no sound except for the slow opening notes of the next track on the CD. Nick finally blinked and climbed to his feet. He turned off the music, opened a drawer in the end table, and took out a few tissues and handed them to Kevin, not looking at him as he did so. But he must have been listening because when Kevin zipped up his pants, Nick handed him the bottle of water with a slight smile. "You probably want this now."

"Thanks." Kevin took a long sip and tried not to read anything into the way Nick watched his mouth.

"We're not supposed to let it get that far," Nick said, then motioned at the crumpled tissues on the floor. "But obviously, it does happen sometimes. There's a...well, a don't ask, don't tell policy."

"I won't get you in trouble." Kevin took another gulp of water and watched Nick swallow along with him. "The waiter--"

"His name's Howie," Nick interrupted gently as he put his clothes back on.

"Yes, sorry. Howie said that you are still pretty new." Kevin nearly gasped as Nick bent over to fix something on the leg of his jeans. The boy had the most perfectly fuckable ass and Kevin actually felt a bolt of deep longing go through him, not an emotion he associated with exotic dancers of any sort, not even in private. He cleared his throat roughly before he could continue his previous thought. "You don't seem like it...being new at this, I mean."

"Thanks." Nick shot Kevin an inscrutable look over his shoulder, and Kevin immediately fantasized about seeing that look while he was buried deep inside Nick's body. His spent cock twitched and he looked away, and after a moment Nick spoke again. "I'm only doing this until I can buy a boat, so I guess I'm pretty motivated to do a good job."

Kevin raised his eyes to Nick's face again. "What will you do when you have your boat?"

"Carry tourists around the Keys, charter fishing trips, that kind of thing. I have it all planned out in my head, but I need starting capital. So this." Nick shrugged and stared at Kevin somewhat challengingly.

"You could probably pick up some extra being a model. You're very beautiful."

"No way," Nick snorted. "Besides the fact that I'm not, that's too permanent. In five, ten years, nobody will ever remember some nameless dancer in some club and there will be nothing left behind to show that I was ever here." His eyes shuttered and he pursed his lips briefly. "Well, nothing tangible."

"You don't want to be remembered?"

"Not for this." Nick laughed and shook his head as he walked toward the door. "You come look me up in the Keys about a year and a half from now. I'll give you something to _really_ remember me by."

The door closed before Kevin could formulate a response, and it was just as well since he had no idea what to say. When Howie came in to check on him a moment later, Kevin borrowed his pen and wrote himself a note on his arm. When he got home, he put a reminder in his palm pilot to look up Nick in eighteen months. He suspected it might just be worth the wait.


End file.
